It's Bohemian

This may be one of my more edgy and controversial entries, so I apologise to the faint at heart. Nature is the strongest force in the world, as we are reminded of this fact when earthquakes or floods or tonados humble us. These things also unite us. Well, this topic is about how nature, even in it's simplest form, both humbles and unites us, the backpackers around the world.

There are few things that are consistent when you travel the way we have. You can expect to always need to lower your expectations, and I think you're safe if that's your compass for most anything. Eating, sleeping, traveling from one spot to the next - just expect to get the wrong food, possibly have hairs all over your sheets, and have the tire of your bus explode three times with a brake malfunction somewhere in there. Expect to go looking for turtles and never seeing them. But also expect to wake up after a night of sweat and mosquitoes to the most amazing sunrises. Expect not to see turtles but have sharks swim beneath you and make you forget you were looking for turtles int he first place. Expect to eat the most amazing food - whatever it's called - that you never ordered but will continue to look for every day until you get the next wrong and amazing food. Also expect to pay too much because you just don't know what you're up against, yet pay half what you would "back home." Not much else is consistent, except this: you will invariably discuss your bowel movements and toilet experiences with everyone you meet. Yes, everyone. It's like a handshake. Sometimes it's the icebreaker. You lean over at a bar, give your "playa" grin, sink, and ask "so…squat or western?" Sometimes you go for it and just come out with "I've gone twice today already." We were once strolling through the jungles and had just spotted some wild boar, and one of our travel buddies says (with no prior conversation or prompt) "I haven't gone for five days…"

It's almost a universal greeting the way English is the universal language out here. We all have issues, and at some point, usually during a meal, the topic comes up. The reasons why are pretty practical. You order some food - it could be as simple as the safe bet cheeseburger - and something about the amount of mayo, chili sauce, ketchup, and barbecue sauce that's streaming down your hand along with a friends somewhat concerned question "is this meat cooked all the way? or is it red because of all the spices?" makes you or someone else state the obvious that "you'll find out in the morning." And that's if you even got what ow ordered…imagine not having any idea what it is but knowing you're not going to send it back when there are starving people everywhere around you. Forget those "there are starving people in Africa" statements. You just turn around while you're eating out here.

The term "pooh attack" does not refer to a cute, talking bear giving a beat-down to Tigger or Piglet. It refers to the need to find a toilet and to find one fast! You don't even care if it's squat or western, and usually give the rest in your party about three seconds to respond to "does anyone have toilet paper?" Stories of "man, I once got on this van and immediately got scared I wouldn't make it another five minutes let alone the four hours to Phuket" (true story) and "this one time I was at the Full Moon Party and 'it' struck, and I knocked on a random bungalow and pleaded with two naked people to use their toilet but then couldn't find how to flush it so I ran out before they saw what a mess I made" or, and this is common: "shoot…talking about this somehow gave me a pooh attack" tend to come up over every meal. You may think this is funny. You may think this is disgusting. But this is reality in Southeast Asia, you take heed.

As you talk about the way this demon creeps up suddenly at the wrong time, you eventually make your way to discussing different kinds of toilets. A lot of these stories will never be understood by you - you simply have to come and experience the pooh attack for yourself - but there are some lessons I can relay.

I am now more and more often confronted with having to make a choice. One that you may not think as monumental, but important nonetheless. Western? or hole? I didn't have this choice when I made my first video in Taipei immediately after going to the toilet in the airport, where I only had the "hole in the ground" option. Having been a self-professed germaphobe, I thought this experience humorous and somewhat ironic. Now, I look at those Western toilets with amusement - you? I'm not choosing you. I'm going for the hole. Yes my friends, no more worrying about what might be on that seat, and no more worrying about….hmm…too much information? No more worrying about clogging it, not to mention the…again TMI.

Do I confess to much? Possibly. But remember, this is all table talk out here, and politics isn't any cleaner a topic. At least this one is something we can all relate to, and not one anyone is going to war over.